


Coverups

by knitsforthetrail



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Celestino caring for his drunk skaters, Dogs, Drinking, Fans, Hamsters, M/M, Makkachin - Freeform, Medical Conditions, Mentions of Character Death, Not really though, Only for a little while though, Poor Viktor, Puppies, Russian skating Fam, Theft, Underage Drinking, Viktor is trouble, Yakov has one big constant headache, adjusting to fame, all he wants is a friend, concerned yuri, dog theft, drunk ramblings in a pet smart, fake death, new fame, no one actually dies, only for a little though, potya - Freeform, unintentionally a criminal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-23 20:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knitsforthetrail/pseuds/knitsforthetrail
Summary: Various stories that the press either didn't hear about or were buried (by Yakov, probably)This can be read in any order (eventually, when I write more)I will eventually add more characters/tags with each new chapter.





	1. Dog-napping

**Author's Note:**

> Viktor accidentally kidnaps a dog. Cute times ensue, and any resulting pain gets better. Happy endings, I promise.

He tore down the streets of Saint Petersburg, one hand clutching that awful green beanie to his head, the other holding an oversized pair of sunglasses that fell off two blocks ago. The streets were all unfamiliar now, but it didn’t matter anymore. They were gaining on him, and if Viktor didn’t do something quick the game would be over, he would be caught. After a few quick turns down random streets and alleys, he allowed himself to glance back. Not a single pursuer was in sight. Viktor sighed in relief and turned to stroll down the street, catching his breath. He fixed the beanie back over his long silver locks and whipped the sunglasses back onto his face, then pulled the jacket tight around his chin. 

A little scuffle in one of the doorways along the street drew his attention. A little puppy was wrapped up in battle with one of the feral cats that roamed the streets. Without thinking he swept in and scooped the helpless puppy up into his arms. He looked down into the round brown eyes of the creature and instantly fell in love. It reached up and kissed his nose. Viktor turned to look for the owner, but suddenly screams of joy filled the street. Viktor’s face paled and he tore off in the opposite direction. They had found him. 

Yakov had warned him, of course, that when he got back to Russia things would be different. He had fans now, according to his coach, and had become a ‘big deal’ in his home country. Viktor brushed all his concerns away. After all, fans wouldn’t make that big of a difference, would they? He was determined to upkeep his usual routine. It had only taken a few mob rushes and an unfortunate cornering before Viktor accepted his new status as celebrity. No more long walks through the city after practice, or visiting his favorite coffee shop without heavy disguise. Yakov urged him to take a taxi whenever he needed to go somewhere, but Viktor wouldn’t stay cooped up for long and it didn’t take long for fans to figure out his go-to disguise. Cue present Viktor, tearing down the streets of Saint Petersburg, platinum hair trailing behind in the wind and a forgotten puppy still clutched in his grasp. 

A little ways down the street he spotted a taxi pulling over for a couple. Viktor spotted his escape, and with a brief apology thrown to those trying to get in, he leapt into the cab and pulled the door shut. The driver glared at him, but Viktor provided an address and he pulled away from the curb. The screaming hoard of fangirls was left behind. Viktor leaned back and closed his eyes, finally relaxing after the chase through the city. Movement in his lap startled him back to the present, and his eyes flew open. There on his lap sat the little puppy from earlier. 

“Hello little friend” he chuckled when the dog nipped at his fingers. I forgot I was holding you, he thought, Yakov is going to kill me! The cab pulled up outside a gloomy apartment complex and Viktor paid for the trip. He thanked the driver before they drove off, and prepared himself for the inevitable lectures waiting for him. Not only had he failed to hide from the fans, he also probably just kidnapped a puppy. And what a sweet little puppy as well, he thought as the dog took a few steps on the pavement and promptly tripped over its own feet. He scooped it back up and entered the building. 

The doorman didn’t grace him with a greeting, already used to Viktor bringing strange things back to the apartment he stayed at with Yakov. Viktor trudged down the hall, small puppy in hand, and knocked once before entering. Since his divorce with Lilia began, Yakov had been in an even fouler mood than ever, and would shut himself into the office for many hours at a time. He selfishly hoped that this would be one of those afternoons, but luck was not on his side. Yakov was sitting on the large futon opposite the door, and when he looked up from the day’s magazine his eyes immediately latched onto the puppy in his arms. 

“Viktor what is that doing here! I say you can go get a cup of tea and you show up hours later with a dog under your arm! And it looks like you lost your hat again,” Yakov’s face started turning red.

“Yakov, I can explain, they were chasing me, and I wasn’t thinking, and…” 

“That’s the problem Vitya, you never think about these things!” He sighed, exasperated, and sat back down on the couch. He ran a hand over his face, and started over again, considerably calmer, “Start at the beginning. Where did the dog come from?” 

Viktor took the cue to sink into the armchair in the corner and played with the puppy in his lap, not making eye contact with Yakov as he recounted his afternoon, “Well, it all started when I got my drink. I took my hat off,” he almost missed Yakov’s eye-roll, “It was really hot Yakov, you don’t understand! Anyway, I took off my hat to enjoy my drink and these girls came up to me asking for an autograph. I figured it wouldn’t hurt, but more showed up and before I knew it there was a whole crowd of them! I swear it wasn’t my fault Yakov, they just show up everywhere! I made a break for the door and they chased me all around the city. I lost them, mostly, and caught a cab back to the apartment.” 

“And the dog, Vitya. Where does the dog come in?” 

Viktor winced then continued petting the ball of fur in his lap. “I may have stopped to pet it and forgot I was holding it.” 

He looked up when Yakov groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You mean to tell me that Russia’s up-and-coming skating star got chased through the city and accidentally stole a dog in front of all his fans.” 

Viktor thought it best not to respond, and focused intently back on the dog in his lap, now chewing on the sleeve of his jacket. The three of them sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, Yakov searching for words and Viktor stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes. Finally, (1092) Yakov was the one to break the silence, voice uncharacteristically soft, “You know, Vitya, you can’t keep the dog. You have to return it.” Viktor’s hand stilled on the puppy’s head, and guilt spiked in his stomach. Of course he knew that, the dog obviously belonged to someone and they would probably miss the adorable puppy, but he couldn’t stop the hurt from seeping into his heart. Yakov, seeing the pain reflected on Viktor’s face, decided the discussion was over, “It can stay here tonight, but tomorrow we find the owner.” He recognized the dismissal and Viktor stood up, clutching the puppy to his chest, and moodily stalked down the hallway to his room.

Collapsing on the bed he set the dog down and stared out the window. The puppy rolled around a bit, but when Viktor ignored it’s play it flopped over and licked his cheek. Viktor’s moody façade crumbled and he smiled at the dog. The life of a figure skater was a lonely one, as he was beginning to learn. Public schooling was out of the question, making it significantly harder to meet kids your own age, and fellow competitors often lived in faraway countries. All Viktor wanted was a companion to spend his free time with, and if he couldn’t find that in a human he would just settle on a pet. He had been pestering Yakov for a dog for months, but Yakov had a steely resolve like no other, and his attempts had been fruitless. Viktor knew, of course, that the dog already belonged to someone else, but it physically hurt to have a dog here, in his room, and know that they would be parting ways the next day. He buried his face in the little bundle of fur and tried to drown out his loneliness in its cuteness. Well, he reasoned, if we only have today I will make it the best day possible. 

Looking at the clock, it was already nearly eight at night, and the smells of Yakov cooking wafted down the hall. Time was slipping away quickly, and he was determined to make the most of it. Viktor snagged an old tennis ball off the shelf. It had been sitting there since his tennis phase, which lasted about as long as expected, considering he could never actually hit the ball. The dog immediately jumped to attention, connecting the round object with games and going to the park. Yakov would never let him out this late at night, especially after making a public spectacle, but the hall was long enough to make do. He swung open the bedroom door and sat on the ground, leaning against the bed. He lightly tossed the ball down the hall. 

The puppy sprang off the bed, clear over his head, and tore off after the yellow ball. When it reached the wood floor of the kitchen it slipped on the smooth surface, but momentum kept it going, and the puppy slammed up against the opposite wall and came to a stop. Viktor stood up in horror, afraid the puppy was injured, but the animal in question just shook itself off and resumed its ball hunt. Shockingly, what sounded like soft chuckling drifted from the kitchen and down the hallway. The surprise lasted only a minute before the puppy reappeared, struggling to keep the ball in its mouth. Viktor couldn’t help but coo at the adorable sight, as it was almost as big as the dog’s head. 

He threw the ball a few more times before Yakov called him for dinner. It smelled delicious, and despite the jokes his fellow skaters made, Yakov was an excellent chef. Dinner that night was a classic, beef stroganoff on noodles. There was some chopped up meat in a bowl for the puppy, and the table had been set properly for the first time since Lilia left. At Viktor’s surprise he huffed and stated, “What, we have a guest.” It was a flimsy excuse and Yakov knew it, but Viktor began to have hope that maybe this little accident would convince Yakov that a dog wouldn’t be so bad. 

He pulled up a chair and dug in, praising Yakov for the dish. He wanted Yakov in a good mood, and the old man was always caught off guard by compliments. Viktor thought it was adorable how on the rare occasion he could get the coach all gruff and embarrassed with a few well-timed compliments, though that was very rare and saved only for when he needed a huge favor. Meals were generally quiet every night, as they spent nearly all day together so there was no use for small talk. The puppy found the bowl meant for him and had begun making a mess. It seemed to have to drag each morsel around the floor before it could eat it. Viktor found it adorable, though Yakov reminded him he would be washing the floor after the dog was returned. The reminder put a damper on Viktor’s spirits, but it didn’t last long.

It was nearly time for bed when they finished dinner and cleaned up, and Viktor sat down in front of the television to watch some cheesy Russian soap operas. Yakov joined him on the couch and, puppy laying between them, they watched the over dramatic drama unfold on the screen. The intense practice earlier in the day finally caught up with him and Viktor found himself drifting off to sleep, leaning up against the arm of the couch. Yakov flipped the television off and draped a blanket over Viktor’s shoulders. He stood in the entrance to the hallway for a moment and watched the pair, the puppy curled up in Viktor’s lap, then turned off the lights and retreated to his bedroom. 

* * *

The next morning Viktor awoke to a cold wet nose nudging his cheek and he blinked awake. Groggy from sleeping, the unfamiliar surroundings startled him into consciousness until he remembered falling asleep in the living room the night before. Yakov was still asleep, but the puppy was sending a clear message his way and Viktor slowly stood up, disgruntled at being woken earlier than needed. He snagged a jacket off the coat rack and lead the puppy outside. While it attended to its doggy business on a patch of grass, he took in the morning Saint Petersburg air. Looking around he spotted a flyer hanging on a pole that he hadn’t noticed before. Judging by the writing it was made by a young child, and had a telephone number in bold lettering across the bottom of the page. In the center was a large picture of a dog. It was the exact figure of the puppy currently taking a dump not five feet away. Guilt bubbled in his stomach. A picture of a little girl weeping in her mother’s arms flashed through his head. 

He ripped the poster off the pole to bring with him. Making sure the puppy in question was following him, he raced back to Yakov’s apartment and laid the paper with the phone number in the middle of the table. It was too early to call, as any sane person would still be asleep at that hour, but Viktor wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore, not until the dog had been returned to its rightful owners. With a little time left before Yakov would get up for practice, Viktor turned to social media. He retrieved the laptop from his room and pulled up his Facebook page. Since making a name in skating many more people had begun following his page, and Viktor had to be more careful of what he posted. Scrolling through his news feed, he came across a story about him. 

* * *

Nikiforov: Stealing Candy from Children

Up and coming Russian Figure Skater Viktor Nikiforov has begun to make a name for himself in the skating world. Put in the spotlight, fans are learning more and more of the promising young man, but an incident this evening has put him in a rather dark light. Fans of the skater observed him steal an innocent dog right of the street in front of its stunned owners. A video has gone viral on YouTube of Nikiforov allegedly snatching up the puppy then hopping into a taxi with no clear explanation. It’s unclear exactly what his intentions were, but many people are outraged… 

The article continued, listing possible reasons he might have had for stealing a puppy. Viktor read each line with a growing sense of horror. People had commented on it, with a link to video and picture evidence of the deed. He slammed the laptop closed a little hard, and shot to his feet. Sleep be damned, he needed Yakov’s help. He had been right all along, and Viktor had foolishly ignored his advice. He stopped, nose almost brushing Yakov’s door, and knocked a few times. A groan loud enough to be heard through the door informed him that Yakov was up, and he burst into the room with no further warning. 

* * *

“Yakov, I need your help! Something terrible has happened! I don’t know what to do!” 

Yakov blinked grumpily at him for a moment, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes and waved Viktor over. He took the laptop and began scrolling through the article, looking increasingly annoyed as he went. Finally, he closed the browser and turned to Viktor with a mixture of dark humor and annoyance, “Vitya I warned you this would happen. You need to be more careful. People will always be watching you; you’re a public figure now!” He looked at the clock on the bedside table and his expression turned sour. “We’ll deal with this in the afternoon. I still have half an hour of sleep left. Go mope on your own.” 

Viktor returned to the kitchen and sat down on a barstool, head resting on his arms. If Yakov didn’t make a big deal out of it then the situation couldn’t be too bad, he thought, but his head returned to the image of a little girl in a state of grief. He remained like that until Yakov woke up. Over breakfast they made a plan for the day. They would only have a brief practice in the morning, then Yakov would schedule a reuniting between the family and the puppy, and Viktor would give a public apology for all the trouble. Thankfully the news article had been from a little-known source, and there would be no problem covering it up. They rehearsed the lines he would tell the press, and when everything was set they left for the rink, the little puppy in its own seat in the car this time. 

* * *

Later that day Viktor stepped out of Yakov's car, wishing that time would slow down or come to a stop all together. The park they were at was not far from the scene of his dash through the streets of Saint Petersburg, and being a public spot, there were many people at the park that day. Viktor briefly wondered if some of them had been hired to witness the reunion. Speaking of reunion, many families were present at the park, and Viktor looked around at them as if he could judge their ability to care for a dog just by their appearance. Unfortunately, he had no idea which ones they were, and he turned back to the puppy who had hopped out of the vehicle and was busy sniffing a patch of grass. 

Yakov appeared at his elbow, "This way Vitya, we're meeting them near the picnic benches."

Viktor let himself be led to a far end of the park, towing the puppy on a makeshift leash. Each step dragged heavier on him, felt like he was pulling against a tether attached to the car. 'I can do this', he thought to himself, and if he tried hard enough he could pretend it was true. As they neared the picnic tables at the back of the field they spotted a family at one of the benches, looking around expectantly. When the little girl saw them, she leapt up and ran towards the two. The puppy, sensing its owner, began barking excitedly and jerked against its tether. Breaking free, it dashed at the girl and leapt into her arms, and the two rolled around on the grass reacquainting with one another. 

Viktor swallowed a lump in his throat and dug his nails into the palm of his hand. He forced a smile on his face, the same one that one Yuuri would someday hate, and for the first time (but certainly not the last) stepped into a role he hated to play. He was Viktor Nikiforov after all, up-and-coming Russian figure skating star, and he realized in that moment that he had chosen a life of showmanship. The parents walked over to where Viktor and Yakov had stopped, watching the little girl play with the puppy. Viktor focused on keeping a pleasant face, and Yakov talked to them for a while. Despite standing right next to them, Viktor would later be unable to recount what was said. Eventually Yakov gripped his elbow and steered him back towards the car. 

Suddenly the reality of the situation hit him and Viktor made a mistake, turned back for one last look at the puppy he had grown so fond of over one day. The family was walking the other way, dog in tow, and unlike Viktor it didn't look back. Viktor stepped into the car and slammed the door. Yakov got in after him, and not sure how to handle the situation, remained silent while his star pupil gazed out the window, unshed tears in his eyes. 

* * *

Weeks passed, Viktor fell into his role of fame. The dog theft story died down and was promptly forgotten. Yakov's advice would sometimes be heeded, and more often than not still ignored. But the dog thing, as his rink mates called it, was not repeated. Only those as close as Yakov noticed the fake smile from that day had never left his face, and the laughter never reached his eyes. One day, Yakov had had enough. He would never admit it, but it broke him in unimaginable ways to see Vitya suffering, and so decided to take drastic measures, "Vitya, get in the car, I’m ending practice early." A cheer went up from his skaters, and they all cleared the ice to go pack up their gear. 

Viktor wasn't sure what to expect, but he knew Yakov's impulse decision had something to do with him. Yakov started the car and pulled onto the busy street, offering to answer to Viktor's questioning glance. They drove on in silence, not stopping until they pulled up to a warehouse-like building on the outskirts of town. Viktor briefly entertained the thought that Yakov was really a serial-killer, but forgot it when he heard the unmistakable barking of dogs. They were at an animal shelter. He turned to Yakov, question on the tip of his tongue, but Yakov was one step ahead of him, "Go pick one, Vitya, you've earned it" 

Viktor turned on his heal and half-sprinted to the building. Flashing a grin at a lady behind a desk, he skipped past a sign pointing to where the dogs were kept. He burst through the door and, skimming over the enclosures, his eyes immediately rested on the most beautiful bundle of fluff he had seen in his life. A little ball of brown curls, feet way too big for its body, a little poodle puppy was jumping around with a group of other little puppies. He felt his heart break, again, and repair itself with the cuteness. He approached cautiously, and held out a hand to the puppy. It gave a cautious sniff, then with a tongue as pink as strawberry ice cream, gave him a little lick then jumped into his arms. Viktor laughed with joy, cuddling the little ball of fluff. 

"His name is Makkachin. He was dropped off with us a week ago, a breeder was unable to find him a home. He clearly likes you, we've found Makkachin is quite the judge of character." The lady from the front desk had followed him and was watching the two with slight amusement. Yakov stood behind her, a weird sort of constipated look on his face that could be taken as an attempt to squash a smile. He nodded and went to go fill out paperwork. 

Sun in the sky, smile on his face, and a new puppy under his arm, Viktor made his way down the street, not a care in the world now that Makkachin was his and no one would be able to part him from his beloved dog. 


	2. #RIPVitya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor goes to the hospital for an injury and word gets out that the Russian skater is dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back with another chapter!  
> Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about medical treatment and injury, and I have been on twitter exactly one (1) time in my life and that was when I made my account years ago.

0700 Wednesday morning:

Viktor stood in front of the mirror and braced himself. With his left hand he ripped the bandage off and grit his teeth against a scream of pain. The gash on his arm had gained a nasty-looking green and yellow bruise around it, and an angry yellow mixture of pus and blood was slowly oozing out. He sighed and with his good arm, dialed Yakov. _He’s not going to be very happy, but I can’t drive myself to the hospital,_ he thought, and hit the call button.

As he waited for Lilia to arrive, he reminisced on the stupidity leading to the injury. The Russian skating team had been practicing stunts before Yakov arrived. Georgi and Viktor had supported Yuri’s weight between them as they skated around in a series of loops and twirls, with the eventual goal of tossing Yuri into the air and into the waiting arms of Mila, who would sweep him up into a waltz on the ice. It was purely for fun, and just to prove it could be done, and required unimaginable negotiating with Yuri before he gave in. Unfortunately something went wrong, and in the process of tossing the young skater, a blade had slashed open Viktor’s arm.

 Yakov had been furious when he arrived, fresh blood on the ice and the skaters running around in chaos trying to find a towel or something to staunch the bleeding. Viktor hadn’t even gotten the day off. Instead he was left to practice the basics, under strict orders to take care of his arm.

Now, Viktor sat in the passenger seat of Lilia’s convertible on the way to the hospital. Yakov had already been at practice with his rink mates, and it was unclear whether his lecture would’ve been worse than the disappointment and silence that Lilia greeted him with. A new bandage was on his arm, and Makkachin was in the back seat. Lilia offered to care for him as long as needed. The puppy could sense his owner’s unhappiness and whined in sympathy, but Viktor was in too much pain to pet him.

As they rolled into the emergency room parking lot Lilia spoke her first words to him, “Stupid boy, you skaters seem to like getting injured.” She regarded him with a piercing gaze, then softened a bit, “Get the treatment you need, the rink will still be waiting for you when you’re better.”

Viktor nodded in thanks, and they went to get checked in, not noticing a camera flash as they walked through the doors.

 

1100 Wednesday

Yuri took a swig from his water bottle and watched Yakov critique Georgi on his program for the new season. As usual, it was very emotion-fueled but lacking in technical points. Yuri snorted, drawing attention to the unwarranted break and Yakov’s shouting focused instead on his apparent laziness.

As he took his place on the ice again, Yuri rolled his eyes. _Viktor hadn’t even bothered to show up to practice that day, but he was the lazy one? Where is he anyways_ , he thought, looking around as though the ice held the secret of his rink mate’s whereabouts. He growled at the unfairness of it, vowing to get Viktor back for being the sole cause of his bad day.

 

1200 Wednesday

Paperwork filled out, Viktor sat on a hospital bed as the anesthesiologist prepared him for a minor surgery. Fortunately it wasn’t too serious, but the infection was pretty nasty and required immediate attention. He tried to relax as a shot was administered and tried to focus on thoughts of his beloved Makkachin, waiting for him with Lilia in the lobby. There was a slight stinging in his arm, then the room faded out of his vision.

 

1700 Wednesday afternoon

**World-famous Ice Skater in Critical Condition?**

**Esme Horn- Buzzfeed journalist**

The skating world has been knocked off its feet by a picture circulating on twitter, showing Russia’s skating legend Viktor Nikiforov entering the Mariinsky Hospital in St. Petersburg, Russia. His coach has been unavailable for comment, leaving fans worldwide to speculate on the health of their idol. Figure skating, like any sport, comes with many risks and potential hazards, and it’s possible for even the best skater to be susceptible to even life-threatening injuries… **Keep Reading**

** Comments: **

@RThompson  I hope he’s all right! #feelbettersoon!

@asbolder  The picture looked really serious!

@MsNikiforov  Nooooo my precious baby!!(/.\\) Get better soon!!!!

**  See 290 more…**

 

2100 Wednesday night

Yuri slammed the door and marched down the hall to his room, ignoring the rest of Yakov’s lecture on practice that day. He flung himself down on his bed and wrapped an arm around Potya, rock music blaring from the speakers next to his bed. He flipped through twitter notifications, rolling his eyes at a picture of Georgi and his new girlfriend. Feeling the urge to release his frustrations, he quickly composed a new post and uploaded it. He rolled over and shut his eyes, falling asleep after the long day of training.

 

Across the skating world chaos spread. A shrine appeared in front of the St. Petersburg rink, hundreds of candles lighting up the street. A GoFundMe page was opened in the name of Viktor Nikiforov’s funeral. #RIPVitya became the trending tag in under an hour. Distraught fans across the world could be found crying into their Makkachin plushies. A boy in rural Japan collapsed in his sister’s arms, crying uncontrollably, all while Yuri lay peacefully, unaware of the significance of his post.

 

0145 Thursday morning

The relentless buzzing of his phone roused Yuri from his deep slumber. Groaning, he checked the time. Seeing it was so early, he dove back under the covers, but his phone started to hum again. Annoyed, he turned on the screen and blinked in surprise at the number of notifications. His post had blown up overnight, and there were increasingly concerned messages from Mila and Georgi, as well as several hundred concerned fans.

All traces of sleep dissipating immediately, he opened his messages and clicked on a link Mila had sent him. Dread settled in his stomach as he read through it, then looked up the pictures in question. With further research, it seemed no one knew what had happened with Viktor, and Yuri’s post had made everything extraordinarily worse. #RIPVitya was the top trending tag. Prayer circles and support groups for distressed fans were circulating. Skating forums were pure chaos, filled with fans trying to find out what happened or posting their condolences.

Panic bubbled in his gut, and he sprang to his feet. With one hand on the door he hesitated and glanced at the clock again, but Yakov had always told them not to wait when it came to problems with the public. He charged down the hall and rapped on the door to Yakov’s room, then burst through when he heard Yakov groaning in the other room.

“Yakov, something terrible has happened, you need to fix it!” Yakov stared at Yuri’s distraught form for a minute, experiencing a terrible sense of déjà vu, and his memories briefly sent him back to an incident years ago with a young Viktor.

“What is wrong?”

“Viktor’s dead!”

Yakov was blindsided by the comment, but regained his footing quickly, “Of course he’s not dead, you silly child, he’s in the hospital getting treatment for his arm. Now if that’s all, go to sleep, it’s two in the morning!”

Yuuri felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment at showing worry for his older rink mate, but held his ground, “There are articles online, everyone’s talking about it. They all think he’s dead,” schooling his expression into neutrality, “thought you’d like to know.”

He turned on his heel and returned to his bedroom, hiding a smile when Yakov found the articles and groaned at the mess he’d have to clean up. Good deed done for the... day? Night? He returned to his bed and fell asleep, hoping Yakov wouldn’t find the post from the previous night.

 

0630 Thursday morning

Yuri yawned and stretched, then got up and wandered to the kitchen. Yakov was on the phone with someone, turned away from him and looking like he’d been awake since Yuri burst into his room early that morning. Yuri tried to sneak some food back to his room without Yakov noticing, but his plan was foiled when his coach turned and spotted him. He pointed a stern finger at the table, and Yuri knew he’d found the post from the night before.

Yakov hung up a few minutes later and sat across from his protégé crunching away at cereal, determined not to look Yakov in the eye. Finally, the older man sighed, running a hand over his face, “Yuri, do you have any idea how bad you made this.” Yuri knew better than to answer, “I have been contacted by ISU officials, sponsors, and news sources all over the world asking about the death of Vitya.”

Yuri chose not to reply, instead meeting his coach’s gaze with a glare of his own. The two sat in silence for a minute, then Yakov’s phone started buzzing. He looked away and said, “Go get ready for practice, Lilia will be supervising you skaters while I deal with this”

Yuri returned to his room and slammed the door. He would love to blame this on Viktor too, but the asshole was probably lying unconscious in some hospital bed. He knew he was partially at fault as well, but really it had just been bad timing, and Yakov couldn’t blame him for that! He grabbed his gear bag and dressed for another day of practice.

When he got to the rink he ignored the crowd of reporters around the door and the ever-growing shrine for his fellow skater, and went to find his rink mates. He found Mila and Georgi huddled in a corner, dressed in all black with reddened eyes. When they saw him, they jumped him with a big group hug, tears spilling down their cheeks and gushing about how much they missed Viktor. He rolled his eyes and suppressed a feeling of guilt at not responding to their messages, and ducking out from under their arms, said, “He’s not dead you idiots, he’s just getting his arm treated”.

Georgi straightened up and sniffed, lying, “Of course he’s not dead, we were just worried about him” Mila nodded, but relief was obvious on her face. The trio went to get their skates on.

 

0700 Friday morning

 Viktor walked out of the hospital, arm wrapped in a new bandage and hurting considerably less. He was still banned from skating from a few days to heal, but at least he still could skate. Yakov was waiting in the pick-up loop, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. “Aw Yakov, were you worried about me?” He was met only with a glare, and a sarcastic laugh from Yuri in the back seat. He looked between the two, then shrugged and took his seat. He scrolled through his social media accounts and posted an update about his time at the hospital as they drove to the rink, missing the remains of the shrines in his name that they passed. At the rink everyone gave an especially teary-eyed greeting, Mila wrapping him in a big hug. A little weirded-out, he said, “What, it’s not like I died or something,”

He was the only one laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yakov just can't catch a break!  
> Oh well, the next chapter will be focusing on a different skater (though I'm not sure which one quite yet)  
> Sorry this one's a little shorter, but I've been having trouble coming up with ideas.  
> Also, adding that picture was confusing as heck and is a testament to how terrible I am with technology. Sorry
> 
> I hope you all have a great weekend!


	3. Why Must They Drink Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit and Yuuri get drunk, resulting in shenanigans in Detroit

Yuuri knew it was a bad idea to go drinking when they had practice in the morning, but Phichit had managed to talk him into it (C’mon Yuuri, you can’t just turn 21 and _not_ drink, it’s the law!). Yuuri stood in front of the mirror, examining his outfit, hoping to find something horribly wrong with it as an excuse to back out, but yet again his younger roommate had chosen well. The dark purple shirt fit perfectly, showing off his muscles while hiding any stomach he might have, and with his hair slicked back he looked ready for a night of sophisticated drinking. _And that’s all it will be_ , he told himself, _a few glasses and we’ll come back and watch a movie or something._

Yuuri stepped out into the hall, blushing at Phichit’s wolf whistle, “Look at you, you’re like a sexy flower opening your petals for the first time!” He laughed and dodged the pillow Yuuri threw at him, “Well, why don’t we skip your excuses and get down to the partying!”

“Phichit…”

“Yuuri don’t worry. Just a few drinks and we can come home, I promise!” Grudgingly, he put on his shoes and left, Phichit close behind.

There was a club a few blocks away, and it was one of the few in the city that let minors in. Being so close, the pair decided to walk. It was a nice evening, a little cold, but their coats were warm enough against the November chill.

They flashed their ID’s at the busser and got a bright pink wristband for Phichit showing he was underage. The music pounded through the door, and purple and blue lights shone down on a crowd of people dancing and drinking. Yuuri tried to push down his anxiety as Phichit pulled him over to the bar and ordered for them.

He took a long swig from the drink placed in front of him and gasped at the unexpected sickly-sweet taste. Phichit was grinning at him over a large smoothie as Yuuri downed the rest of the glass and asked for a refill.

After his third drink Yuuri forgot why he had been worried in the first place, and he told Phichit as much. Snagging a glass of champagne, he made his way over to the dance floor and started busting some moves, barely noticing Phichit taking pictures for his Instagram. Soon enough the younger skater was pulled in too and they danced for song after song. Somehow, in the middle of all the partying, Phichit managed to down a few himself and soon enough both skaters were wasted.

After a lively waltz to some pop song that was definitely not meant for ballroom dance, Yuuri decided he’d had enough for the night. They retrieved their coats from the bar and bid farewell to everyone who would listen.

They stumbled out of the bar arm in arm and headed down a random street, in a search of the nearest pet store. Phichit had his phone out and was trying to find their location on google maps, but his ability to spell had disappeared along with the third drink of the night.

Finally, as the chill was starting to seep into their jackets, they spotted a PetSmart a block away. They skipped and stumbled down the street and through the doors, shedding their coats as they got too hot. Phichit pulled Yuuri down the aisles in search of the hamsters as his friend began to unbutton his shirt.

They stumbled to a halt in front of a glass case. Light poured out of it, and little furry creatures wandered around, almost glowing in their drunken eyes. Phichit brought their joined hands up to the glass and caressed the little hamsters, tears appearing in the corner of his eyes.

“They’re just- _hic_ -so beautiful- _hic-_ look at their chubby little cheeks-”

Yuuri had broken down into an uncontrollable fit of giggles, “Phichit-kun, they’re just hamsters”

“What do you mean, just hamsters,” he launched into a lecture on why hamsters were the best animals in the world, accompanied by dramatic hand gestures and arm waving.

Meanwhile, Yuuri was getting reacquainted with his fascination with the English language, “Hamsters, hamsters, hammmpsterrrrs… Phichit! Ham stirs! I know how they got their name! Phichit!” He hit his friend’s arm to shut him up, “Listen for a minute! This is important!” Phichit quieted down, waiting for the blessing of Yuuri’s wisdom, “Phichit. Ham stirs. Ham. Stirs. They stir the ham. It all makes sense now! Don’t you see?”

Phichit’s face lit up, “Of course! I never thought of that! They stir… the… But Yuuri, what does it mean! Why do they stir the ham?”

They sat in silence, trying and failing to come up with an answer, and would have sat there all night if it hadn’t been for the employee that came to tell them the store was closing.

Back out on the street again, this time without their jackets, they began to consider how to get back home. In an unfamiliar part of town drunk off their asses, they were helpless. Finally, they had to sit down and admit they were lost. Phichit looked close to tears, and being the responsible ‘adult’, Yuuri determined it was time to swallow his pride and call for help. He dialed the only number he could remember and waited for the man to pick up.

“Ciao Ciao Yuuri, happy birthday!”

“Ciao Ciao-”Phichit snickered in the background, muttering ‘Ciao Ciao’ to himself, “-Phichit and I need help.” He cut off, unsure how to describe their situation, suddenly afraid of a lecture.

“Yuuri? What’s wrong?” Concern was apparent in his voice.

“Yuuri. Yuuri, don’t let him know we’re drunk,” Phichit all but yelled into the phone.

“What’s this? You’re drunk?”

“No! No, Celestino, maybe a little… tipsy…”

“But certainly not drunk!” Phichit added in.

They could practically hear Celestino face palming through the phone speaker.

“All right, Yuuri where are you at? Can you see any street signs?”

He looked around, “Uh, no, we came from a PetSmart,-”

“Yuuri, tell him about the hamsters!” Phichit interjected, unhelpfully.

“-and I think we walked a bit.”

“Don’t move and keep Phichit with you. I’ll come pick you two up.”

“O-okay,” The night was catching up with him, and Yuuri felt tears forming in his eyes.

He hit the end-call button and sat down, leaning up against the wall of a building. Phichit curled up next to him and draped an arm over his shoulder.

“Shh, Yuuri, it’s going to be okay, don’t worry.”

Yuuri shook his head and leaned up against Phichit, closing his eyes, tears making lazy tracks down his cheeks. They sat in silence for a time before Phichit spoke again.

“Yuuri” his voice was raw with emotion.

“What is it Phichit,”

“I think… I think Mojo’s cheating on me,”

“Mojo, like your hamster Mojo?”

“Yeah,” His voice cracked, and Yuuri pulled him closer.

“Why do you think that?”

“I just,” He took a shaky breath, “I see the way he looks at Napoleon; he doesn’t look at me like that Yuuri! He doesn’t!” Tears began to wet his shirt and Phichit sniffled.

“Phichit, hey, Phichit look at me,” He grabbed Phichit’s chin and forced eye contact, “You know what?”

“What?”

“If Mojo likes Napoleon more than you, then he’s not worth your time.”

Phichit’s face lit up and Yuuri could feel him smile against his neck, “Thanks Yuuri, you always know what to say,” Yuuri combed his fingers through the younger man’s hair and closed his eyes, allowing the tendrils of sleep to draw him in.

Next thing he knew Celestino was shaking him awake. Phichit groaned loudly in his ear, and Yuuri closed his eyes again, but the warmth of the car was too inviting. He slowly got to his feet while Celestino helped Phichit into the back seat, then stumbled in after him. Somehow seatbelts got buckled (not necessarily the right ones), and they were off.

“How much did you two drink?” Celestino fixed them with a glare in the rearview mirror.

“How much did _you_ drink?” Phichit echoed, and Yuuri felt tempted to correct him,

“No, no, how much did _you_ drink?” he said in all seriousness,

“No! No no no, _how_ much did _you_ drink?” Phichit said between giggles, and Yuuri started cracking up as well. Celestino rolled his eyes as his drunken students continued back and forth.

By the time they arrived at their apartment Yuuri and Phichit had become silent again, and were barely awake enough to make it up to their room. Celestino made sure to put glasses of water out for them, then left with instructions to drink lots of water. The two skaters collapsed on the couch, leaning up against one another, and promptly fell asleep.

 

Celestino watched with amusement as his two very hungover students shuffled into the rink the next morning. He thought, for one spiteful moment, that they deserved it for being so reckless, but they were his pupils and Celestino had a hard time getting angry at them. He had been up most of the night preventing any pictures of their drunken adventures from spreading. After some mumbled apologies, he sent them off to stretch for practice and warm up, not able to conceal a grin at the groans from the young skaters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry if this chapter was lower-quality than usual (and also really short! So short! Sorry), I wasn't super happy with how it came out but I'm leaving again for a week and wanted to get another chapter out beforehand.  
> I did absolutely no research for this one, so I have no idea if bars like that are actually a thing, or if they are anywhere near pet stores or anything. It's all just made up.  
> Thank you all for reading and I'd love to know if you all have anything you'd like to see in future chapters, whether it be certain characters, events, or other stuff. I'd love to hear from you!


	4. Just an announcement

Hey, I've got a new chapter that I hope to post soon, so I figured I'd give some warning that I'm changing it to m/m rather than gen as it will include some Victuuri content.

I hope you all have a good Friday!


End file.
